


Scars

by Rose_The_Reaper



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_The_Reaper/pseuds/Rose_The_Reaper
Summary: A student in the DWMA is in a rough patch and Professor Stein helps her out.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned that there are mentions of self-harm, blood, and some negative thinking. If this upsets you, please be careful reading. Other than that please enjoy :)

I sat on the edge of my bathtub, clutching the razor tightly. I couldn’t handle the stress of school work and the extra lessons I had to take to make up for my terrible marks. My weapon, Turner, was out for the evening and I was thankful for that, the last thing I needed was him barging in here. I ran the blade horizontally across my left forearm, blood beading along the thin wounds. My eyes pricked with tears as I continued down my arm, stopping a few inches above my wrist. I then carefully repeated the process with my right forearm. I ran the tap over my wounds, blood spiraling down the sink. I then went to my room and pulled on a black sweater to cover the wounds. I then got into bed, my stomach clenching at the thought of handing in my homework, as it was probably wrong.

  
“Hey, Skye, get up!” I heard Turner’s voice as he shook my awake.

  
“Alright, alright,” I said, sitting up and stretching.

  
We fell into our morning routine. We would alternate taking turns making breakfast; whoever was off would get ready. It was Turner’s turn to make breakfast today so I grabbed up some clothes and headed into the bathroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a thin, teal long-sleeved shirt. I pulled my sky-blue hair into a ponytail and went into the kitchen.

  
I began eating the toast and eggs Turner prepared as he headed into the bathroom next. When I finished, I got my backpack ready and waited for Turner. He bounded to the door, carrying his backpack.

  
“Let’s go!” he said as he led the way to Shibusen.

  
We continued through a long day of classes, with class crescent moon the final class for the day. Professor Stein was going on about another dissection, which we had to take notes on. When the final bell rang, Professor Stein said,

  
“Can you please hand in the homework assignment from yesterday as you leave? Thank you.”

  
Students began leaving, dropping their assignments as they left. I was the last one to hand my assignment and as I did, I noticed Stein staring at my arm. Confused, I followed his gaze and saw drops of blood leaking through my shirt.

  
“What happened?” he asked, studying me.

  
“Oh, I caught my arm on something last night and it left a nasty little cut.” I lied, looking at the floor.

  
“You’re lying.” He said and my heart rate began rising in nervousness.

  
“How can you tell?” I asked.

  
“I can see your soul and at your statement, it became more jittery.” He replied. “Now may I take a look?”

  
Seeing no reason in trying to hide it, I pulled up both sleeves, revealing the thin, horizontal cuts that littered my fair skin. He gently ran a finger over them, studying them.

  
“How did this happen?” he asked and his voice was soft, calm with no hint of disgust or fear.

  
“A razor blade,” I said softly, my head falling in shame.

  
“Why?”

  
“I deserved it. And I couldn’t handle the stress.”

  
“Schoolwork?”

  
“My marks. I deserved pain because I’m not good enough.” I said.

  
“Well, I could tutor you and give you extra assignments to help you in this class and your other ones, to start off,” he offered.

  
“I’d really appreciate that,” I said with a small smile.

  
“Not to sound like a parent, but those will scar you know, right?” he asked.

  
“I know.” I said, glancing down again.

  
“But there’s no shame in scars,” he said, tilting my head up to look him in the eyes.

  
“There isn’t?”

  
“Scars show us that we survived.” He said, with a slight smile. “But I want you to promise that you’ll do your best to control it.”

  
“I will. Thanks, Professor Stein.”

  
“See you later Skye,” he said as I left the classroom, feeling much better than I had in weeks.


End file.
